Curls and Twirls
by buffyvh
Summary: Dean and Sam encounter a ghost, and try to solve the mystery behind it. Gen. M16 to be safe.


**Disclaimer:** Supernatural, including all recognizable characters and plot lines from the television show, does not belong to me. This fanfiction is purely for entertainment purposes.

**A/N:** This is my first attempt at a full length Supernatural fanfic. I haven't been keeping up with Supernatural (blasphemy, I know) so this fanfic won't have anything relating to the current going-ons in the show.

About the pairing information: I originally planned for this to be a gen fic, and it still probably will be. There may be some minor more than friends action between Winchester/others (just for plot purposes and nothing permanent) and I'm still contemplating whether or not this fic may turn into Wincest.

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There was a slight drizzle, the rain hitting the windshield of the Impala only to be swept away by the wipers as they steadily moved back and forth across the glass. Dean sat in the driver's seat, his eyes on the little of the road he could see illuminated by the headlights of his precious car. The radio was playing softly in the background, the soft music dancing around the edges of his conscious. Sam had slid down his seat, one of his legs bent against the dashboard in front of him, the other propped up against the car door. His head was against the shoulder of the seat and his chest rose and fell softly.

Dean felt at peace.

They had just finished a job a few days before; a malevolent spirit had been terrorizing businessmen in Suite 27 of a posh hotel. By the time the Winchesters arrived six businessmen had been murdered, hanging from the closet door by their neckties, their pants around their ankles. It hadn't taken long to before they discovered the identity of the ghost in question. A prostitute had been strangled in that very same suite by a businessman working for a major electronics company. A few high powered lawyers later, along with a few claims of erotic asphyxiation (at her request) gone wrong, the charges disappeared.

The night before they left Dean caught Sam forwarding an anonymous email with evidence of the case to the county's new district attorney. Dean didn't mention it, but he knew the limp, but curly blonde hair and sad blue eyes of the prostitute's ghost had affected Sam and been an unwelcome reminder. Sam had been uncharacteristically silent during the drive, probably thinking of the ghost in her ripped fishnets, a collection of dark bruises decorating her neck. The spirit hadn't struggled. When the lit match fell onto her bones she seemed to float away in the wind, a sigh echoing in their ears. Her name in life had been Catherine. Dean carved it into the white wooden cross, the only marker on her grave in a forgotten corner of the cemetery.

Dean drove on, thinking of the gentle touch of the wind against his cheek.

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They were driving down an empty country road bordered on both sides by split rail fences when the first gunshot rang out. Dean hunched his shoulders reflexively, one arm shooting up to protect his head. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the steering wheel, yelling at Sam to wake up, see what was going on, duck, and grab a gun, all at the same time.

Sam jolted to alertness with a start and peered into the darkness, one hand clutching a revolver, the fingertips of his other hand pressed against the window as he peered into the darkness. His neck tensed as Dean suddenly hit the brakes, and the Impala skidded to a halt in the mud.

"What the fuck was that?" Dean asked, still staring in front the Impala. Sam pulled the handle and got out of the car as the door opened with a click, staring in front of them at the road. He didn't notice the rain pattering around him as he shut the door with a flick of his wrist and trudged forward to investigate. Dean pulled out his gun, cursed, and followed. Sam was kneeling at the side of the road over the white shape that had run across the road in front of the Impala.

As Dean got closer he could see it was a girl, her dark hair spread in the grass. One hand was clutched at her side where dark blood was seeping into the grass and staining the white nightgown she wore a deep, rich red. Her feet were soaked in mud, her legs covered in bits of grass. She was so pale she almost seemed to glow, and Dean realized something wasn't quite right. She turned her face to glance at him, and he caught a glimpse of dark eyes, the irises so dark they looked black before she turned back to Sam. Lifting a ghostly hand to his face Sam looked startled and Dean pointed his gun and almost shot before Sam held up a hand to stop him.

"Must…leave…escape…" With a choke she fell silent, and her fingertips passed through Sam's cheek as she started up into his face. Her lips moved, and Dean couldn't hear what she said but Sam stiffened. Then, just like that, she disappeared, the light gutted out like the flame of a candle. Sam squatted there for a few moments, staring at the place where she had been, then straightened his legs and turned sharply, heading back to the Impala.

"Sam! What the fuck? What was that? Stop! Wipe off your shoes before you get in the car!" Dean stalked after Sam, pulled the door open, and sank back into the seat of the car and carefully replaced the gun next to the seat. There was silence, the only sound coming from the rain hitting the roof of the car. Dean opened his mouth, but Sam beat him to it.

"Dean…that girl…I think she was trying to warn me. She wasn't dangerous, but something hurt her. Someone hurt her." Sam fell silent.

"No shit, Sherlock. Don't go running out like that again." Dean turned the key, starting the engine. Half an hour later he pulled into a motel. By silent agreement, they had found their next job.

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Sometime during the night the rain had stopped. When Dean awoke the next morning to sunlight shining brightly on his face Sam had already forced himself awkwardly into one of the tiny motel chairs. His laptop was open on the table, his eyes narrowed as his hand glided over the touchpad. Dean looked at him for a moment before rolling out of bed and grabbing a pair of jeans out of bag next to the bed.

"Mornin' sunshine. Find anything yet about Ms. Silk Nightgown yet?" Dean trudged into the bathroom without waiting for an answer and reappeared a few moments later, zipping up his pants and accepting the cup of coffee Sam held out to him.

"No. If she's from this town, it's like she never existed. No one's been murdered here for a long, long time. I tried looking for Jeremy too. I found one, who graduated from the local high school about 15 years ago. I have his address from back then, I wonder if it's still valid." Sam held out a piece of paper to Dean, the address scrawled on with one of those stubby motel pencils.

"Who the fuck is Jeremy? That's a boy's name Sammy, in case you didn't know." Dean replied, taking the address and glancing at it. Sam glared.

"She said the name right before she disappeared."

"Worth a try." Dean shrugged.

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After a breakfast at the local diner they found themselves driving down the same dirt road from which they had come from the night before. The sky was a robin egg blue, a few white clouds floating into view, and the sun shining a brilliant yellow onto the grassy fields dotted by grazing cows. They eventually pulled up to a farm house that they hadn't noticed in the dark. It was two stories, and from a distance looked like any other farm house they had passed on the way. But as Dean pulled into the driveway they could see the wood through cracking paint, rotting supports, and crooked shutters. Obviously the house needed some work, and there was no one around who was doing it.

Next to a faded red, old fashioned truck that didn't look like it could start, let alone move on its own there was a newer car. It was white and looked only a couple of years old. Dean glanced at it as he walked past and up the creaking porch steps, Sam right beside him. The mystery of the car was solved as the door opened as Dean lifted his hand to knock. A woman strode past him. He glanced, disinterested as her and was slightly miffed as the door slamming shut behind her.

"Dean…" Dean glanced at Sammy's face, his eyes were wide and he sound strangled as if he were gasping for breath.

"Sammy, snap out of it, you look like you just saw a ghost." Dean cracked, flashing Sam a grin. Sam didn't smile.

"Dean…it's her. The girl in the nightgown." Dean turned his head to look through the windshield of the white car pulling out of the driveway just in to catch the dark eyes staring intently at him and Sam.

"Holy shit."

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I apologize profusely for any OOCness. Unbetaed. I already have the basic plot planned out; I'm not sure exactly how long it will be but no more than 2 more chapters. I think. Sorry the first chapter is so short!


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